Mirror, Mirror
by definatleynotafelineorcephalod
Summary: What if Eragon never found Saphira's egg? A story about how something so seemingly inconsequential as a badly aimed spell can cause things to go horribly, horribly wrong. Rated for character death.


**A/N:**This was not meant to be written. Unfortunately, the plot bunnies hopping around in my brain had other ideas. So you guys get a short, slightly depressing, AU. Ir really would appreciate crit on this, by the way. I'm not sure I like the way it turned out.

**Warnings:** Lots of character death and mentions of torture.

**Summery:** Eragon never found Saphira's egg. Let's see what happens...

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Inheritance Cycle. If I did, this probably would have happened. And that would suck.

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><p><em>For want of a nail, the shoe was lost.<em>

_For want of a shoe, the rider was lost._

_For want of a rider, the message was lost._

_For want of a message, the battle was lost._

_For want of a battle, the kingdom was lost._

_All for the want of a horse-shoe nail._

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><p>Deep in a forested mountain range, there was an explosion accompanied by a brilliant flash of light, and in the small crater that had been made, a large sapphire stone appeared.<p>

Three miles away, in another part of that same mountain range, a young boy shot down a lame deer and returned to his home with enough meat to feed his family for the next three weeks.

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><p>"My king, there is no trace of the lost egg."<p>

"Not even rumors?"

"No, my Lord."

"I see... I believe it is safe to assume that it has not hatched yet. Lay the matter at rest, for now, and focus on the elf. She will tell you where she has sent it eventually."

"Of course, my Lord. You will be the first to know when I succeed in breaking into her mind."

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><p>Murtagh pulled his hood up higher over his head to better conceal his face. Galbatorix had put up more wanted posters, asking for his head. Had it been any less inconvenient, he would have been flattered. As it was, however, he was on the run from the damn fortune seeking bounty hunters. Bounty hunters... hm, now <em>there<em> was an idea. He didn't have any particular quarrel with the Varden, so ratting out their suspected informers would be pointless... but murderers, bandits, and thieves- perhaps he could even do some slaver-killing on the side. Brilliant.

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><p>"I have succeeded in breaking the elf, my Lord."<p>

"Oh? And what news has she provided us with?"

"She meant to send the egg to Brom, sir."

"Brom? I thought he had died..."

"Apparently not. He's hiding in the village of Carvahall."

"Good heavens. Well, we'll have to do something about that. He _did_ kill my most loyal supporter, after all."

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><p>Brom grimaced. <em>Ra'zac.<em> He hated those things. They always made life so _difficult_, but there was nothing he could do about it. They had probably come to Carvahall for him, so he would have to high-tail it out of here and do it _fast. _ He really did wish he could take Eragon with him, but, well, the boy would be safe in the village. The life of a farm hand wasn't particularly dangerous, after all. Now, where to go, where to go. Teirm sounded good. Maybe Jeod would give him an update on the Varden's affairs.

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><p>"Has the egg been recovered yet?"<p>

"No, the Ra'zac have ransacked Brom's house but there was no sign of it."

"Hm, and what happened to that old coot anyways?"

"He got out just as the Ra'zac arrived, sir. They checked the minds of all of the villagers, but none know where he may have gone."

"Of course they didn't. Brom isn't a trusting person. If he was, then he would have been dead by now."

"Indeed. Should the Ra'zac pursue the him, or should they scourge the Spine for the egg?"

"Let them look for the egg. Put up wanted posters for Brom, however. Did the Ra'zac at least get an updated version of his appearance?"

"Apparently he looks exactly the same as he did the day he killed Morzan."

"Excellent. This makes my job much easier."

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><p>Murtagh stared at the new wanted poster on the public notice board. The last couple of months had been very successful for him. He had struck some small blows in the Dras-Leona slave trade, and had managed to turn in a good number of criminals. He had also picked up an extraordinary amount of relevant gossip, as well as earn enough money to feed himself. Who knew this decision would have been such a good one? He had a feeling Tornac would have been proud of him a well. He was making himself useful, doing good things for the community- and most of it for reasons other than personal gain.<p>

However, all of that had little to do with the matter at hand. Here, on this wanted poster, was Brom. _The _Brom. The Brom who had killed most of the Forsworn, including Morzan. Oh, but this would be _fun._

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><p>"The elves are getting restless, Your Highness."<p>

"Are they?"

"Yes, apparently the one we had captured was their Princess."

"Huh. Speaking of your prize, has she given us any more information?"

"I was hoping you would ask that. Yes, you see, the elves haven't been entirely truthful to their allies..."

...

"Oromis, Oromis, Oromis... what _are _we going to do with you?"

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><p>The elves were taken completely by surprise. While it was true that Islanzadí had been becoming more and more ill at ease with her daughters disappearance, nobody had expected to be <em>attacked<em>- much less by the king himself. As she fought, Rhunön watched as the Golden Rider fell, listened to the dieing screams of her kin, and felt the heat of fires as Ellesméra burned around her. She couldn't help but feel that her race had brought this upon themselves.

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><p>"That was immensely satisfying, my Lord."<p>

"It was, wasn't it? Even so, we suffered tremendous casualties... doesn't really matter, though. Most of them were Urgals. Disgusting creatures, Urgals are. The world would be better off without them."

"Indeed, sir."

"I expect the other cities will be in quite the state, after this."

"It would be safe to assume so."

"Yes... send more troops to the cities bordering the forest. Oh, and before I forget, what do the Twins have to say on the matter?"

"The Varden is in a panic. The elves were a serious factor in their effort. It has been a great blow to their moral."

"Excellent, excellent."

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><p>Ajihad put his head into his hands. The capitol city of the elves... gone. Just like that. Boom. The other elven cities were still intact, of course, but still. And on top of that, the elves had been harboring a rider. A rider that all of the elves had known about. A rider which was now oh so very dead. It reminded him of one of Hrothgar's favorite sayings: <em>Never trust an elf. <em>Now was not the time to be dwelling on the deception of his tapered-eared friends, however. Better to dwell on their recent loss. If Galbatorix had this type of power at his beck and call... he wondered how long it would be until the dwarves fell as well. He wondered how many days the Varden had left.

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><p>"The Ra'zac have recovered the egg."<p>

"Have they? Oh, well that's fabulous. When do you think they will arrive?"

"Within the week, certainly."

"Good. For a minute there, I was wondering if they would fail to locate it."

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><p>Brom kicked the log in frustration. His encounter with Jeod had certainly been <em>informative. <em>Yes, now he knew that Arya had been in Gil'ead for months, that the egg had been lost, and that Ellesméra had burned, and that Oromis, Glaedr, and Islanzadí had all burned _with it_! This month just kept on getting better and better, didn't it? Good gods, he should have just let the Ra'zac take him. How many eldunarya did the king even _have _to be in possession of that kind of power? To many, to be sure. His cause was doomed. The Varden was doomed. Surda would be lucky to even retain it's freedom at this rate...

There was the sound of a horse in the distance. It was getting louder. Growling, Brom drew his sword. It was only one horse, so he could probably take the rider without to much trouble, but it was best to be safe. The hoof-beats finally slowed, and Brom made out the shape of a mounted man in the darkness. As the stranger came into the light, all Brom could think was _Impossible._.. _he's dead. _ But then he caught sight of the man's eyes and realized that his first impression was incorrect. _But who...? _Oh. _Oh. _ Well. _This_ should be interesting.

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><p>"The remaining elves are migrating East, my Lord."<p>

"Are they now... I wonder what they hope to achieve from that. Surely they don't think that joining the dwarves and the Varden will help them?"

"I don't know, my King."

"Hmph. See to it that you find out... whatever happened to that Princess of yours?"

"She's dead. Apparently she overheard one of the guards gossiping our recent victory over her kind and decided to commit suicide. Out of guilt, I suppose."

"Pity. She was most useful. See to it that those guards are fired, will you?"

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><p>Brom evaluated his temporary traveling companion. Murtagh was much different than his father had been at that age, that much is clear. More sensible. More cautious. More closed off. Colder all around, really. There were similarities, however. The temper. The passion. The grim determination.<p>

The boy had had a rather rough time of it back at Urû'baen, it seemed. Not loyal to the King at all. 'Course, he didn't seem to be a big fan of the Varden either, that much Brom could tell. He didn't seem adverse to giving information to the cause, though. So far, Brom had learned that Durza is still in business, doing all of the King's dirty work for him. No surprise there. In fact, there hasn't been much change at all in the last fifteen years. Well, except for the fact that Galbatorix finally came out of his hole. And apparently the Ra'zac were residing in Helgrind now. Classy.

Brom chanced another sidelong glance. Yes, Murtagh did resemble his father quite a bit. There were slight differences though. Subtle hints of Selena showing through. The boy no love for his father... perhaps he could eventually persuade Murtagh to join the Varden. He doubted it though. He didn't seem the type to put his lot in with the losing side. Besides, what point would there be in even showing up at the Varden, now? No, he would wander for a while. Keep an eye on his enemy's son.

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><p>"The Twins have told us that Surda has been aiding the resistance."<p>

"Have they now. It seems as if Surda has forgotten that the only reason they still exist is because I let them."

"Indeed. What would you have me do?"

"Ignore them... for now. But let them see what happens to those who resist me. It's the Varden's turn to burn. Take as many Kull as you want, I won't be there. The dwarves are no-where near as powerful as the elves."

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><p>The Varden had been on guard ever since the fall of Ellesméra, but there's a limit as to how prepared you can be. You could be expecting fire to rain from the sky, and there would still be nothing you could do to stop it. This is exactly what happened during the Battle of Farthen Dûr. Among the fallen were a most of the dwarven population, including their King, Hrothgar and his nephew, Orik. The Varden's leader, Ajihad was also among the list of casualties, as was his daughter, Nasuada, and most of the council of elders. Standing in the wreckage of the once-great city, was the Shade Durza, red hair streaming behind him and a self-satisfied smirk on his face.<p>

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><p>"I must congratulate you an your success. That was quite the stunt you pulled there."<p>

"Thank you, my Lord."

"Yes. Come now, let's open a bottle of wine to celebrate the Varden's demise."

"If I may, sir, the dwarves are extremely vengeful creatures."

"Vengeful, yes. But they know when they have been defeated. They know when to stand down. In a way, they are better at that then the humans. Now then, enough of this talk. It's time to celebrate peace at last. To new beginnings!" Galbatorix smiled as he raised his glass.

Durza mimicked the action, "Aye, to new beginnings.

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><p>Murtagh looked at the distraught man sitting across from him in the dimly lit tavern. They had been traveling together for quite some time now, and he had grown rather fond of the old man. Of course, that had been before they had gotten news of the Varden's fall.<p>

"So what now?"

Brom scowled into his glass, "What do you mean 'what now'? The Varden's fallen, the capital cities of both the dwarves and the elves have been sacked, and Surda refuses to send aid, in fear of attracting Galbatorix's wrath. Nothing much we can do, _now_."

Murtagh shook his head, "You misunderstand me. What are you going to do? You said that you had a son, why don't you go see him?"

"He doesn't know that I'm his father. Besides, I won't be welcomed in Carvahall anymore. I didn't think that you would be one to give up, though."

Murtagh shrugged, "It's not giving up if you were never part of it to begin with. As for you, well... I figured that you would have gotten tired of fighting by now."

"All of those who died-"

"Died in vain. It's sad, but there's nothing we can do about it. Besides, I would have thought that you would have been used to mass-genocide by now."

Brom snorted and took a drink, "Nobody gets used to that. It is hard, standing down when all you've done is fight..."

Murtagh smirked, "But you have experience. You've spent the last fifteen years in a tiny out-of the-way village, haven't you? I see your point, though. But, you know, the only thing that will come of continued resistance is more lives lost. Sometimes it's better to just bend. It's not giving up, it's just living to see another day. I don't think that all of the ones who died would have wanted more to join their ranks."

Brom shook his head in wonder, "You truly aren't your fathers son. Morzan would have gone kicking and screaming to the very end." He smiled, slightly, "It's certainly different, being lectured by someone who's a quarter of my age."

There was a strained laugh, "I'm mostly just parroting my old mentor, Tornac."

"Half my age then. Tell me, Murtagh, what will you do with yourself?"

That earned a pensive frown. "I'm really not sure, but I think I'll keep in the bounty hunting scene for a bit longer. Not to long, though. Best not to draw attention to myself. When I'm done, after I've gotten a few years under my belt... we'll see. I sort of want to open a swordsmanship school. Maybe in Surda. Nice weather, and no wanted posters."

Brom nodded, "Your certainly good enough. Wait until you turn thirty, though. It's a bit hard to gain credibility when you're so young."

Murtagh hummed, "So what will you do?"

Brom grinned, genuinely for the first time in a year. "I," he said, "am going to go sailing."

Murtagh arched an eyebrow, "Sailing?"

"Across the ocean."

"What do you think you'll find there?"

Brom gave him a slight smile, "I don't know. I don't think anybody does, except perhaps Angela. I plan to find out, though."

Murtagh nodded, "Well, I hope you find what your looking for, wherever that may be."

Brom chuckled and raised his glass, "To new beginnings."

"Aye, to new beginnings."

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><p>In a winding mountain range bordering a small village, a young man returned to his home from his hunting trip, empty handed and none the wiser.<p>

The End.


End file.
